


I could listen to you talk all day

by qBox



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, set between season 3's episodes 5 and 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 00:36:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8644543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qBox/pseuds/qBox
Summary: The constant sound of Edward Nygma's voice was soothing and reassuring, Oswald had long since realized.





	

The constant sound of Edward Nygma's voice was soothing and reassuring, Oswald had long since realized. Somewhere back in a neon-lit apartment, it had been a source of support, a pleasant light at the end of an abysmal tunnel. Each morning, it had brought him back from his nightmares, to red milky tea and toasted bread with mustard spread, and to the sound of whatever record he'd placed on the turntable. He always had some facts, something new to add, and while Oswald hardly listened to the lot of it, it made him feel good.

Until now, with Ed back with him in his father’s - _his_ , now - mansion, Oswald hadn't realized how much he had missed it - the company, the conversations. At Arkham, there had been so much supervision, despite the poorly reformed state of its rules and personnel, but here, they were unencumbered. There was nothing they could not talk about.

Well, perhaps some things. Some things, Oswald felt, were better left for later - for when he had found the courage and correct words to explain these sensations, constantly on the incline as they were. The way his chest tightened at the thought of what could have happened during the eve of the election. How it similarly did so whenever the heat of the others' body lingered too close to him for just a moment too long.

Yes, it was easier to ignore it, to distract himself with anything else, than to face the topic headfirst. Meetings, plans, and initiating his new chief of staff to the ways of Gotham's underworld, into which he had only dabbled slightly and seen hints of before.

Watching Ed learn new things was fascinating, Oswald found. He could lose himself watching Ed's intent gaze when the other sank down in the arm chair engrossed in their papers, observing how his forehead creased in the middle shortly before he would request specific, non-relayed details. It wasn't as if the subject was tough for the man to comprehend - apart from being an actual genius, he had also worked with the GCPD after all and knew the ways of Gotham City - but there were more intricacies to this world than he'd personally seen proof of before. Just as easily could he lose himself in the odd cadence of Ed's voice when they walked through the halls of the mansion, and the way it cracked just a little on the higher notes when he became too enraptured by the topic.

Oswald also found himself soon beginning to trust his friend's opinion and sense of judgement over his own - clearly, Ed had an upper hand, where his thought process worked based on logic and puzzle-solving, while Oswald's own so easily was swayed by whatever whims of emotion his ever-changing mood made him subject to. Frustration would too easily leave him tongue tied and freeze the clever words he'd planned out before they even left his mouth, but where they'd normally be replaced by snappy retorts, Ed could see the correct path.

Ed had been right, so many times that Oswald almost started to wonder if he actually could do wrong (but _of course_ he had, and Oswald had experienced it himself). He'd been right back in the apartment with his harsh but comforting truths. He'd been right in Arkham, about Fish Mooney and her intentions being nothing Oswald needed to worry about. He'd been right about the votes, too. And eventually, he'd been right about Butch Gilzean, the traitor - the one Oswald time and time again had considered a friend only to see the muscle head turn coat yet again. A friend he could no longer trust - another who vanished, quite literally this time, from his life. He remained undiscovered, the big buffoon.

And left with him in the lounge was now only Edward Nygma, music playing mildly on the record player as they went over future schedules and plans and meetings for both mayoral and kingpin duties. Oswald caught himself watching the other more and more often as the days went on, sometimes even hearing his heartbeat in his ears. On Ed's neck were now only traces where the skin once had been bruised purple, and while they had faded, Oswald could still see them in his memory and cringe at how close he could have been to lose Ed too.

Never again, he decided for the tenth time that day. Friends, parental figures, guides, he'd lost plenty. Never would he allow himself to lose Ed.

Ed was something entirely different, only Oswald at most hours hesitated to admit to himself what. It was frightening, at his age, to fall so head-over-heels for someone for the very first time, and he spent his nights tossing and turning. At one hand, he was enthralled by the feeling, and on the other hand terrified of the way his chest swelled at the thought of Ed's smiles, and kind words, and promises.

On that evening after the celebration at the Sirens', Ed had said he would do anything for him. And despite knowing that nobody ever was supposed to be trusted, Oswald believed him - because he _wanted_ to believe him with all of his being. The promise came included with so many sublevels. Ed wouldn't ever leave him the way they all had, and the thought sent a heat to his eyes and heart like never before.

"Oswald?"

The voice broke through his thoughts and Oswald blinked, sitting up better in the couch. Across the room, Ed watched him with a tilted head and a look that was hard to read. The lamp cast a yellow shine over his features, and the lit corner stood in strong contrast to the darkness of night outside the windows.

"Yes?" Oswald replied, hurriedly, and the smile that came with the word lingered on his lips.

"Something on your mind?"

Oswald wasn't sure how to respond to that question, and he felt himself smile wider and more awkwardly strained. How could he possibly tell Ed that ever since that evening, he'd wanted to lean back into the reassuring embrace, to feel the warmth and protection that had streamed into his body from Ed's? To feel the fabric of his clothes between his fingers, the outline of his muscles underneath it... His eyes shot up from its resting position at Ed's nape and he hoped his shorter stature could be blamed for the height of his stare.

But they were seated, so it probably couldn't. _Damn_.

"Oh. Not really, no", he mumbled, though he really wanted to yell out ' _I think I am in love with you_ ' at the top of his lungs, and the abruptness of the impulse nearly shocked him off his balance. The louder, the better, came the subthought - he just wanted these emotions to be conveyed to the other by any means possible. How was he supposed to do that? He couldn't very well scream it out, that would be startling and likely unsettling. But more importantly, could Ed feel the same?

Oswald wasn't sure - but he liked to think there was a possibility.

The alternative was too painful to consider.

"Hmm." Ed leaned back over the binder he'd folded out open across his legs and studied the papers intently, his fingers tapping at the edges of its covers in rhythm with the bass from the record. "Did you know that you technically own the fraction of the city where my apartment is?"

"... I... Is that so?" Oswald frowned, and pushed himself up to his feet to limp across the room. His cane remained flat against the pillows - it wasn't a long trip anyway. "Which office does it pertain to?"

He knew a lot more things had fallen into his care after his election, and though he had ensured himself of most changes, everything new intertwined with the old and made for a simply confusing mess. Stopping close by, and with the lack of his cane as an excuse, he leaned over to rest his weight at the arm support, placing his hand on Ed's. The man's skin was dry and soft against his own.

"Underworld", Ed briskly replied. "Wonder who has taken over the place since I left. It's highly unlikely it stands uninhabited; the landlord wouldn't allow that to happen... I hope they have gotten used to the fan."

His tone was mild but his eyes were downcast, and Oswald almost wished he would have known, so that he could have surprised his friend with... well, with what? The knowledge? A fun fact?

Of course, after being detained and subsequently committed to Arkham so suddenly, Ed must have missed his home just as terribly as Oswald had missed his own after his mother's death, and the chaos that followed. He'd sent Gabe to oversee cleaning it out so none of her items would fall into the fribbling hands of whatever moving company would have emptied it otherwise, but he himself was sought for the murder of Galavan back then. And now, neither his nor Ed's old home were easy visits.

"Would you like to have it back?" he offered. "We could probably solve that, somehow, if you do. We could drive out the tenants, probably even come to an ...agreement, regarding the rent. Unless the landlord has a penchant for trouble, that is."

But he didn't actually want any of that. If Ed returned to his apartment in Gotham, that meant he wouldn't live in the mansion anymore, and hardly ever be there in comparison. The idea was terrible to him, and, regretting it wholeheartedly, he watched with bated breath as Ed slowly turned his head up to look at him. The shadow of a smile came over the genius' thin lips.

"That is very generous of you, Oswald", he said, the free hand moving up to wrap around Oswald's that still rested on top of his own. "But I sort of think it would not feel right in the same way. A lot of my stuff was towed after all and the rest..." he shook his head. "Besides, there are a lot of memories connected to that place that I'd rather never be reminded of possible. The visit from Jim Gordon, to name one. And Ms Kringl-- _Kristen_ 's death..."

"I hope my stay is not one of them", Oswald commented, forcing it into a nervous laugh to hide the fact that his body was trembling. Relief at the response mixed with utter terror at his own reaction to the near-handholding ran through his veins. Ed let out a short huff of a laugh, and though Oswald had begun to miss the bright smile and loud cackle the man had used to sport, and this was nothing close to it, at least it was a positive sign.

"Oh, no of course not! Your presence was only appreciated, Oswald, I promise. You taught me so much over just those couple of weeks, I am forever in your debt." His voice was so clear and honest, and Oswald only found himself smiling and nodding along. Of course - as if Oswald wasn't equally as much in his.

He hoped they would never tie - that they could keep offering each other their services for as long as humanly possible.

"The same applies to your presence here", he admitted, and squeezed the hand he'd covered quickly before letting go of it. "I would _hate_ to see you move out so soon."

His throat was sore from just those words, and his skin felt as if pricked with needles. Not for the first time he wondered if this was a common occurrence between infatuated people, or if it was just him - and he regretted never having asked his mother about these things. Would she have liked Ed, he wondered. Probably - he could be charming and polite. But also, maybe not, given her protective nature and general animosity towards the idea of her son in a relationship.

Maybe, with Ed, she would have seen what he had found, too.

Ed caught on much too quickly to Oswald's motion (of course), and moved his fingers back to the lines of the papers. It felt as if Oswald could still feel the outline of his hands on his own, and he fought the urge to rub the skin to stop the tingling.

"Oh, you won't lose me so easily", Ed, bless him, answered, and Oswald felt his stomach knot.

"Oh?"

"What is for the eye of the weary a spellbinding sight, for the child the end of amusement?"

Oswald shook his head in response, the roll of his eyes only feigning exasperation. It was quickly joined by a grin, so Ed didn't seem to mind much and instead almost contently continued.

"The nights. Believe me, I have never slept sounder than I do out here. Did you know the levels of traffic sound in Gotham has been causing its residents notable health side effects for years? Out here... well, the ticking and the house creaking becomes more of a lulling white noise."

"Ouf, tell me about it", Oswald sighed, completely understanding of the situation. "Mother and I, well - our home wasn't all that well sound-proofed, to be honest. The traffic could be absolutely deafening some days."

"Then you surely also noticed the change to _some_ extent", Ed jested and offered him the glass of wine standing on the table next to him. It was Ed's, but Oswald accepted it without a second thought anyway and took a careful sip. The glass was cold in his oddly feverish hands. Ed must have noticed the temperature difference.

"Actually", Ed continued while he did, "there are certain loud noises that are more likely to wake you than others in the same volume range."

"Oh?" Still with the glass gripped in his fingers, Oswald sank down into the second armchair by its side, intently watching his friend while he did to ensure him he was still paying attention.

The conversation soon split away from what Ed had learnt on the topic of noise level effect on the dreaming, to what noises were the most frustrating ones, to torture methods based in sensory deprivation and amplification. The folder and its intelligence was soon placed to the side and forgotten. Ed had read this, and read that, and Oswald found that eventually he wasn't entirely taking in all the information given - but he didn't mind. He could listen to the sound of Ed's voice all day and night – forever, really - and he'd never bore of it, of that he was certain.

The thought of the mansion without the records and these nightly conversations brought him only memories of the period of time after he served Grace her children for dinner. Long, lonely days with only the distinct buzz of the television static running through his mind, time spent with no thoughts and too many thoughts at once. Any prospect of such over-encumbering loneliness and anger definitely made his stomach turn.

But there was no need to worry about such things, and Oswald knew that too.

He would always have Ed.

**Author's Note:**

> ...but will he, though, is what we're all asking.
> 
> Hi, hope you enjoyed this silly thing! Oh, Os, just hurry up and tell him, it'll be better that way.  
> Needed to write something sweet after the most recent episodes and figured I might as well post it!  
> Also, I begun writing it while working on this: https://tmblr.co/Znfsgl2E-QeLk  
> (Here's a secret: I write more than I end up posting)
> 
> Comments are super appreciated, so feel free to tell me what you thought, or if there was anything you noticed.  
> Again, English is not my first language, and sometimes words are difficult.


End file.
